Axel Graafland 56

Miss Tempelman asks the children to take a pencil in their left hand and use it to draw a picture of God. On this Maundy Thursday, left-handed Rens Rotteveel justly has to use his right hand. As an example, Miss shows a copy of Leonardo Da Vinci’s Last Supper. ‘Have a good look boys,’ she argues, ‘even though Da Vinci was left handed and wrote back to front in mirror image, he left us a very clear portrait of God’s son. Look at the crimson-red cloak, the stilled pose, the serene look. Try to imagine what the heavenly father of this honourable young man would look like...’ Axel is inspired. With the tip of his tongue between his teeth, he keeps moving his left arm across the piece of paper until there appear the contours of a man with a full grey beard in a cloud of angels. His facial features are apparently so expertly drawn that Miss, standing in the aisle next to his desk, enthusiastically exclaims: ‘But Axel, are you sure you’re not actually left handed?’ ‘No one has ever seen god,’ whispers Rens sneeringly to his neighbour, ‘but pay attention: in three minutes time we will know more.’ Moments later, a blast of spring sunshine illuminates a figure that due to a somewhat hooked nose and a checked pencil skirt resembles most of all Miss Tempelman. ‘Behold here Miss,’ Rens explains, ‘the image and likeness of our creator.’ She drags him by his left ear lobe across the classroom and parks him in the hallway for hours next to a statue that with a spastic pose of pale bones made of marlstone has been given the name of MARTYR.